Blackbirds Follow
by Rinaty
Summary: War. It ravages the innocent and its after effects are crippling. Everytime you think you've overcome it, it comes back for another round. A choice must be made: keep fighting or surrender. Change or bow down. OC; Self Insert
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: This is a self-insert. No, she is not a member of a clan nor does she have a bloodline. Next chapter the story will begin. This is more of just an overview of what's happened up to a certain point. This is my first attempt at something like this and writing in the 1st person. Please review and tell me what you think about it. **

* * *

**Blackbirds Follow**

**Prologue**

* * *

The scent of ash and burning bodies were suffocating as I focused on not choking on my own blood. Years of nose bleeds kept me from really noticing the taste on my tongue. I knew that the sound of bullets tearing through flesh, metal, and dirt were coming from around the corner and yet it seemed all so very far away. A bitter smile stressed my chapped, split lips, but I paid it no mind.

Above me was the clear, crisp winter sky that was slowly being invaded by columns of black. With no white clouds to intercept the enemy, the blue was fading from my line of sight. Somehow it seemed to reflect the battle all around me perfectly. These people had simply been struggling through their daily lives in this new America. No one had expected the fiery explosion of troops from the South on what few had dubbed 'peace' day. That had done nothing to erase the reality that they were quickly being overrun and their streets were covered in their blood.

A long time ago I might have charged into the thickest of the fighting to defend these people. I would have been damned if I did anything less than give my all to save at least someone. At one time I hadn't hesitated to make myself the hero.

Things were different now.

I've lost too much to throw away what little remained. My will to defend the weak had been snuffed out the day I found out that I could not defend my own flesh and blood. My child had been lost in this retched war that was and was not a civil war between the North and South. Any love I had left for those who needed me was covered in a brittle shell of indifference. I had failed my own, how dare I succeed for others.

Tanned hands rested lifelessly atop the gaping hole in my chest. I wasn't sure if I did it because it was more comfortable or because it was a subconscious attempt to keep the red within. Whichever it was did not matter as I gazed through brown hair at the roof of a nearby building, flames licking at the trees beside it as if impatient to taste a particularly favored treat. Several birds that had either been too frightened to move or were deaf fled their home.

It was strange how easily I could focus on those dark winged creatures as they circled once, twice before disappearing over the houses. One would have assumed that the piercing screams that were tapering off as more were killed would have held my attention. _Demanded_ it. It didn't but I guess years of living in their war zone was the cause. It was hard to pretend to be shocked when a person collapsed to the ground after being struck when you were usually the one doing the striking.

A cough battled its way out of my throat. It would have sounded perfectly normal if not for the tangible wet quality to it. While it did not take a physician to know that I was slowly drowning on dry land, it did allow me to guess how much longer I had.

The breeze disturbed some left over trash from a knocked over garbage can, failing to rise the gooseflesh it might have had earlier. One can in particular drew my eye and I nearly laughed. Though it had been wrapped in black construction paper to keep its identity hidden, its tumble had torn away just enough for a red and blue logo to stare out at the world. Months before hell had made itself known to us common people Coke had managed to buy out its greatest competition. Oh, my little brothers had been so upset over it like so many others. If only that light comic relief had lasted.

Beyond that can was a scrap of orange something. The color never had much appeal to me since I was rather fond of blues and greens. Yet, after discovering a cheerful blue eyed blond with a twisted streak for trouble, orange never failed to bring a sincere smile from me. Yea, those had been good times. Given, the man behind the blond had made so many mistakes that half the fandom hated him, but at least its popularity held out longer than Bleach's.

I wasn't aware when my eyes drifted shut but it was always my impression that my smirk hadn't been completely sardonic.

* * *

I was shocked once upon a time while setting up my mother's blue ray. My fingers had easily sorted their way through the mess of cords, some of which were not connected at either end. One cord specifically was naked and live when I touched it. Still, that had nothing on the molten energy dancing between my lungs and through my heart. Under the influence of the foreign substance my muscles jerked, twisting my limbs into unnatural positions. Nails, longer than I remembered, bit into my unusually soft palms.

Eager pants filled the air around me as the source of my pain was cut off. Murmured voices sounded from somewhere above, but I dared not open my eyes. Rumors. They were supposed to be rumors that the troops of the South and soldiers of the North collected prisoners of war. The fate of such people were often torture or slavery or to become medical experiments. It was baffling that they would go through such trouble to save my life only to turn around and destroy it.

Turning my attention back to the outside worlds kept me from wandering too far down that line of thought. Words I'd long since stopped trying to hear registered in my brain, bringing with them a single word: Japanese.

Concentration furrowed my brow as I strained to hear more, to puzzle out what was being said. The harder I listened the more gurgled their speech became. It wasn't until an all too familiar word came up that I realized what was wrong. My captures were speaking as if Japanese was anything but their native tongue, miss pronouncing the simplest of words. Not that I'd be able to do better but yeah.

A sigh relaxed my body as I succumbed to the gentle sway of exhaustion.

My time continued in a predictable pattern after that.

The first time I was released from sleep's hold it was to the knowledge that a plastic tube had been shoved down my throat. A shuddering, wheezing sound from my right reminded me of a respirator. There was no need to open my eyes and confirm the existence of my IV. Shifting my face away from the annoying sound did little to ease my headache or the itch of new skin across my chest. Unconsciousness could not have had come any faster.

Upon my second moment of awareness I attempted to open my eyes. For a moment fear overrode my senses as my eyelids struggled to open, heart pounding a broken staccato against my ribs. Then the faint crusting around my eyes cracked, letting in the entirely too bright world. My eyes squinted under the assault, but I was determined to resist the need to shut them. As my pupils constricted colors popped into existence. Contrast and color were easy to see but the lines were blurred beyond recognition.

Abstract art in all its glory.

I did not bother to open my eyes again. My vision had been deteriorating faster than most as I grew up and I did not wish to know that its speed had only picked up since I had been shot.

Time was passing. I knew this and yet, without a clock or calendar, I had no idea how slow. Between my periods of consciousness only seconds could have passed. Weeks could have rolled by and I was none the wiser. Around my 50th or so awakening things began to change.

No words could ever describe my appreciation to whoever deemed me healthy enough to remove my breathing tube. It did take most of my self-control not to vomit but that did nothing to kill my joy. The removal of that cursed thing meant that my lungs were strong enough to keep me alive without any support. I was getting better.

Sometime later I awoke to something large and rough brushing through my ridiculously short hair. It was an unconscious decision on my part to lean my oddly heavy head into the touch. Any embarrassment I might have otherwise felt was demolished by the breathy chuckle I earned. The man flicked my nose gently, causing me to wish I could laugh. My throat absolutely refused to indulge me however.

He came back multiple times after that, often playing with the ends of my hair. Though I was unable to understand why he visited me when I was a prisoner, I still took what comfort he offered me. Aside from my near constant visitor my only human interaction came in the form of silent adults pressing harsh, cold items over my heart. To say I preferred the laughing man was an understatement.

As most adults are bound to, I had long since forgotten what it felt like to be held in the arms of a parent/caregiver. So when I came to in the comparatively large and curiously protective arms of my visitor I froze. Now, I was not some short, petite woman. I was 5'7 and quite capable of defending myself if need be. Despite all of that, I was tucked carefully in the arms of the laughing man with my blanket covered feet barely touching his opposite bicep. The piercing wail was most diffidently my own.

He stiffened for a moment, probably completely caught off guard and somewhere underneath my panic I wondered if I was the first crying baby he had dealt with. Obviously during our time together I had never shown this side, so it most likely was. His arms pulled me closer as he rocked me to try and calm me down. I couldn't though. I was 33 years old for the love of coffee! I spent 12 years in school to become a physician and had a child of my own. I could not be a newborn again.

As he whispered soothing words into my ear, while resting my forehead against his shoulder, the analytical part of my brain spat out hard, cold facts. I was an infant. My heart had stopped before I woke up the first time and the searing pain had been them restarting said heart. The discomfort of growing skin was due to surgery. Above all, the man that held me was most likely my father.

I felt him sag in relief as my cries died down. That alone sent a jolt of guilt through my heart. In my past life I had not known my birth father and the closest I ever had to a dad had dropped me like a hot potato when my mom divorced him. Clutching as hard as I could to the collar of his shirt, I swore never to make him worry about me again.

Time picked up after that and I began to notice things before that I had ignored. One such thing was my diaper. I had known that I never used the bathroom, but wearing a diaper would have been pretty far down my list of reasons why. Though, that was due more to embarrassment than my medical knowledge. The mortification of such a thing was burned into the back of my mind for the rest of my life.

I was in the hospital for only another week at best before my dad finally took me home. I wish I could say that I knew where I was the moment my eyes settled on the cliff face that bordered one side of my town but I did not. During the time we passed a building that might have told me exactly where I had ended up I was distracted. At the time, listening to my father's voice and studying his face seemed so much more important. Questions rose in my mind like: is my hair as dark as his? What caused the scar running across his forehead? Would I have a sharp nose like he did?

Instead of the boring greys, whites, and occasional blacks of the hospital I was finally seeing colors. I had the impression of newly budding trees, and my skin was slightly chilled. So much time without visual stimulates left me starry eyed during the trip to our apartment. In the sun's light I was able to spot the small burst of honey brown in my father's mostly blue eyes. His shirt no longer looked black but was a deep blue. The yellowish undertone to his skin proved to actually be olive. Not to mention the suspicious streak of something else in his black hair.

Home was, by an adult's standards, rather cramped. Every inch of wall had some form of furniture pushed up against it. They ranged from kitchen counters on the left-hand side to a couch in one corner to an unheard off number of book shelves. There was no bedroom or bed. Instead, I would later find out that the loveseat unfolded into a slim bed, but it was more than enough space for the two of us.

I was staring fiercely at a book my dad had left on the floor when I saw him wearing it. My vision was giving me a held of a time understanding anything that was less than a foot from my face and not at least as large as a coffee pot, but I still saw the green vest for what it was. A flack jacket. The book had laid beside me completely forgotten as I watched my father place a cloth around his forehead, the silver plate catching my eye the most. He seemed to notice my fixation because suddenly I was in his arms and he was running one of my hands over the carving.

It was not difficult for him to mistake my shock for awe and merely gave me his trademark breathy laugh. I hardly paid him any mind as I was stuck into a baby harness that hung from one shoulder to the opposite hip. My father walked us out of our apartment before leaping along the building tops, the cool air drawing me back from my pit of disbelief. Of course, when I had been younger and Naruto had been more popular I had read my share of fanfiction, but this was ludicrous. There was no way that I was in what most had called a 'self insert.' Not a chance.

My wayward thoughts were interrupted by a squeal that said so much no matter what language barriers were in the way. The close up of his chunin vest was disrupted by dainty, pale hands. I heard my father's light sigh and wondered if he was thrilled about the attention I was bringing. My previous denial came back in full force when I was greeted by a grin wide enough to crinkle the two purple marks on the child's face. Short, brown hair bordered her slightly round cheeks as she poke my belly in wonder. Her large eyes darted up to my father's face before returning to me and I figured she must have asked my name.

"Minori," she repeated softly, trying out the name on her tongue. It had taken me a few days to learn that it was my name, and it was strange to hear someone other than dad say it. The brunette hummed in satisfaction as she held me in her arms.

"Rin?" She half turned at what I knew was her name, but, because of the way she held me, I could not see who had called. I only had a second to stew in my curiosity before a boy stepped beside her. Now, it might have been a while since I had last watched the anime, but there was no way I could have ever mistaken the identity of the male.

Rin happily chirped some garbled version of Japanese to the impassive boy who merely eyed me when the brunette mentioned my name. Neither he nor I had a chance to object to the idea before I found myself pushed into a surprised Kakashi's hands. It did not take a genius to see that the genius hadn't a clue as to what he was doing seeing as he wasn't supporting my head at all. That changed though when a soft baritone spoke from behind the silver haired brat.

As if the cosmic powers were having a laugh at my expense, the next set of hands I was placed in belonged to a man that had a fanbase nearly as large as Sasuke's. Yellow and blue filled my vision. At first glance I saw the man his son would grow to be, but the image was shattered as a loud cry came from the door my father had brought me through. I caught his name the same time that his face leaned over me. Some might have melted into a puddle at the sight of a 9 year old Obito Uchiha, but all I could think about was all the pain he would cause. The terror and spilt blood.

Some of my intent must have shown on my face because my pudgy fingers merely slipped harmlessly through Obito's dark hair as his teacher pulled me away. Minato looked down at me with a quirked eyebrow as if he was looking at a child who had tried to steal a cookie before dinner. Thankfully that was the moment my dad recaptured me, speaking happily enough to the genin squad. A small, twisted part of me found it immensely hilarious that instead of being born with the Rookie 9, I was born shortly after Team Minato became Team Minato. During the Third Great Shinobi War.

"Yuuta." Dad glanced over the shoulder of the blond at the word. He bowed politely to the freshly minted genin and jonin, and strolled purposely towards a long desk. Multiple people sat behind said desk, but it was the man in the very center that drew my attention the most. The Sandaime Hokage. Only younger.

I understood the gleam in the Hokage's eye as he examined me. He had always been shown through rose colored glasses as a kind, patient grandfather of sorts. That was not what I was seeing. Hiruzen Sarutobi saw one thing in me and one thing only: a potential kunochi. With a faint smirk, the old man motioned my father to take a seat at the desk. It would be during the long hours at the mission desk that I came in contact with nearly every genin, chunin, and jonin of Konohagakure.

* * *

"Yosh! We will complete this mission in 3 days or I shall run 1000 laps around Konoha on my hands!"

I giggled at the 11 year old as he accepted the scroll I held out to him from my position on my father's lap.

"How was your birthday, Minori?" Genma rolled a senbon from one side of his mouth to the other, leaning casually against the desk. Gai's face went slack as his gaze darted between me and the waiting preteen.

"It was great," I enthused, leaning forward after glancing around to spy any eased droppers. I knew that with everyone present being ninja that what I said would be heard by all, but I think I earned extra points for drama. Genma indulged my request that he move closer and I held one hand up to the side of my mouth, whispering loudly, "Daddy got me some training scrolls and promised to teach me how to use my c_hakra_."

A grin tugged at one corner of the genin's lips and I was aware of the amusement of a several lingering shinobi.

"Guess I better be on the look out less you steal my job." Genma's quip brought some chuckles from our audience.

"Wait! I missed the young Minori's birthday," Gai cried out in horror. His hands slammed onto the desk top, scattering scrolls as he leaned forward. "How can I make up for my most un-youthful mistake?"

In my three years of going to work with my father I had yet to see this side of Konoha's Green Beast. Baffled meet the understatement of the year.

"Perhaps a rain check," my dad intervened smoothly while pulling me back by one of my pigtails. Gai blinked owlishly at my, then a 19 year old, father before agreeing happily.

* * *

Two years later found me waving a thin book in my dad's face, interrupting his reading. A tilt of his head was all the prompting I required.

"I read it without needing help!" I beamed at the proud smile that flashed across his lips. The screwy version of Japanese Konoha used had been proving more difficult to learn than the original. Speaking and understanding it had been trying but I had accomplished it by the age of 3 for the most part. Reading the language was harder to overcome than the colonist during the Battle of Bunker hill, but, like those colonist, it was eventually defeated.

* * *

At one point that year I had gathered my courage and asked my father what happened to his hand. I did not ask why he never preformed any jutsu despite having such great control nor why he never took missions outside of the village. His right hand was missing the last two fingers and his middle finger stopped at the first knuckle. Forming hand seals were impossible for him to do. Without them, he wouldn't have been much more than fodder during the war.

He had refused to go into more detail than "kenjutsu user."

I doubted he knew just how much I understood the strike to his pride and how much it hurt him to give out the missions, but never take one himself. Instead of allowing him time to think of it, I resolved to distract him in the best way I could.

My father must have always believed I would become a kunochi. The picture book of the most common hand seals and a set of wooden kunai gave him away. I knew that he was proud of me whenever he caught me training on my own. Dad would laugh breathily at my antics. He'd ruffle my long, scarlet hair and grin whenever I pouted at him in annoyance. In return he would flick my nose lightly but the adoration in his eyes was heart breaking. Or at least it is now that I think back on it.

Heart breaking because he did not live long enough to see my graduation from the academy. My first high grade. He was not there to send me off to my first day of school with a grin or to register me for the academy. The only man I ever considered my father died before I turned six.

As per my usual Tuesday evening, I was on the floor of our tiny apartment. My legs swung back and forth behind be absently as I read one of the many novels that my father had lying about. He was an avid reader much to my delight, and his collection was never ending. A clock on the wall above my head was ticking lowly, interrupted only by the sound of pages turning. It was an odd comfort that the Narutoverse lacked television shows and the like. Temptation to chill on the couch with a remote was nonexistent.

Dad had come home from the mission desk with dinner on his arm only an hour before. He had ranted up and down about how disgusted he was when he found out how disorganized the mission reports were about a week previous. He had grumbled about how there were D-rank reports mixed in with B-rank and A-ranks hiding in the C-ranks. Instead of merely speaking with the next person in charge he had skipped them all in favor of storming the Yodaime's office. A small part of me was sad to have not been there.

Needless to say, Dad's 'suggestion' that someone reorganize the reports had been granted with one exception. He had to be the one to do it. That itself had earned a two hour rant about how it wasn't his fault things were that way and how Minato should have given the mission to someone other than 'poor crippled Yuuta Tachibana.' I hadn't been able to repress the need to remind dad that he only liked being called handicapped when it suited him. That one earned me a nose flick.

Since then he spent every other night working late at the office, but never failed to bring home either Ichiraku's or Yakiniku Q. While some might have thought the food was an apology or a treat, I knew that in the morning he would make me work off every bite I had. Most probably would have just had as little as possible to avoid the backlash, but I often splurged on the yakitori (grilled chicken kebabs) or tonkotsu ramen (noodles in pork broth). In my defense, good food was too good to waste.

In my story Shinji was leaping between his best friend, Tadashi, and an incoming kunai when the tranquil was shattered. I had never been chakra sensitive, but I could have been chakra ignorant and still felt it. Dark, heavy: the power in the air was smothering. My head dropped to rest on the wooden floor by the sheer force of it, and my lungs became desperate air, like all of the oxygen was being devoured. Tears were gathering in my eyes long before my father dashed out of the bathroom wearing a pair of sleeping pants and a tank top.

"Minori," he murmured, an expert at keeping his worry and fear hidden from me. He lifted me into his arms as if I might break and I honestly felt like I could. My arms wrapped themselves securely around his neck of their own accord, face pressed against his throat. I had been paying attention to the date, but I had hoped that maybe I could have been wrong. Surely my simply being here must have changed something!

October's chilly night air nipped at my bare toes as my father leapt from the nearest window. My fingers buried themselves in the black hair at the nape of his neck as I dared to look behind us. Any warning I could have given was trapped in my throat as a huge, sickly red tail came crashing down. Our apartment building was demolished under the weight and for a moment my heart ached for Mr. and Mrs. Soto, our elderly neighbors.

Dad shoved me roughly from him as the Kyuubi's tail closed in. There were no last minute encouraging words or 'I love you.' I didn't even see his face as the tail struck him out of midair, slamming him into the earth. A tree caught me during my fall and lowered my speed greatly before I returned to earth. I was left gasping, begging for breath as the Kyuubi turned his attention in a different direction. Things were blurred after that and all I could remember was being scooped up in the arms of a dark haired boy that couldn't have been more than eight or nine.

Kyuubi tore Konohagakure a new one before it was sealed within Naruto. The Yondaime and his wife died in the process while anyone under the age of 18 was banned from participating in the battle. Bodies were burned instead of buried simply because of their sheer number. Konoha mourned the death for days to come and the Sandaime returned to office. Orphans were in abundance, over running the orphanages.

I spent every day in the cemetery, kneeling in front of the stone plaque that bore my father's name.

* * *

After my sixth birthday I was entered into the academy. It wasn't because I wanted to be a kunochi or because someone saw that special something in me. It was merely because our numbers had been severely lowered and Konoha needed more soldiers. There was only one place that they could find kids more than willing without any strings attached: the orphanage.

The first time I saw Hana Inuzuka and Itachi Uchiha was during the academy welcome ceremony.

An instructor was introducing the newest class of students to the academy, but I was hardly paying any attention, instead checking out the crowd. Tsume Inuzuka, though several years younger than the manga ever depicted her, was standing proudly beside a young girl with matching red triangles on her cheeks. The girl's hair was tucked away in a ponytail that couldn't have been longer than an inch or two. Her eyes were not as sharp as her mother's, giving her a more tamed appearance. She kept glancing towards her feet every other word and easily gained my attention.

Moving between the members of the crowd, I soon found myself towards the back where a handful of clan members were with their children. A young boy with dirty blond hair stepped closer to the front and cleared my line of vision. Three small, identical pups were nipping at each other's tails and playing happily between Hana's ankles. Despite my mental age, I was still very much a female and even I wanted to cuddle the little balls of fluff.

My chance to step up and possibly make a friend was stolen by the cry of a baby. Motherly instincts kicked in with a vengeance and I spun on my heel sharply. A few people might have sent me questioning looks as I brushed past them, but they were unimportant. A child was upset and I was determined to find it.

"Shush, it's okay Sasuke."

If the name alone hadn't stopped me in my tracks, the sight of a beautiful woman cradling her son would have. From my position three yards away, I could spot the tuff of dark hair peaking over the wrapped bundle that was Sasuke Uchiha. My eyes shifted from Mikoto to her eldest son. Had I really been 6, I'm sure my face would have redened at the very idea of being caught staring. Itachi lifted one eyebrow at me that could have meant far too many things. Obviously the safest course of action was to turn back towards the front and pretend I never saw him.

That was how I ended up spending the rest of my short week in his class.


	2. From This Moment

**Blackbirds Follow**

**From This Moment**

* * *

The swing set squeaked as I pushed myself forwards and back, careful not to get any dirt inside my shoes. It was a tad chilly outside for a place with such temperate temperatures as Konohagakure. For once I was thankful for the -admittedly thin- jacket that I always dragged around with me. Its sleeves pooled around my elbows as I swung a bit harder, faster.

Things were so much more complicated than I wanted to admit. Every piece of my heart insisted that I do what I knew was the best for a few and not the many. Like I had for years in the other world. Yet, I've seen what hardships such selfish acts could bring about and I did not want that for this world. My jaw clenched as I noticed the last of the kids in the park running up to their parents, holding hands as they strolled away. Orange glow from the setting sun illuminating their smiles.

Six years and his death still came to cut me whenever I began to relax. I had mourned my father to the best of my abilities so that I could move on. In the mornings, afternoons I was perfectly okay with the fact that I was an orphan. It was times like these that I was reminded of what I didn't have and what I had felt when I did. Normally I would have been well on my way back to the bed waiting for me but today I stayed. My intention was to desensitize myself. I hadn't planned on him being there.

My head tilted towards my lap as I searched out the boy from the corner of my eyes. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his one size too small, khaki shorts. He, too, kept his head bowed but I noticed his shaking shoulders despite the two sizes too big shirt he wore. I didn't have to be an Inuzuka to know the air would smell like saline. I did not need the Byakugan to spot the tears that littered the earth around his dirty feet. The breeze pushed at his blond hair and I wondered if he was cold.

I knew that I could not walk up to him and befriend him. For all the hurt he suffered, Naruto would use it all to better not only his life but everyone else's. He would be able to relate to Gaara on a level no one else could and he would use his odd power to change the mind of a particularly thick skulled Neji. There were others such as Inari, Zabuza, and Nagato. Without his hardships he would not be able to make so many people see the truth. To gain hope.

It was so much easier to not step in and offer him his first hand of friendship when I did not see the devastated look on his six year old face. More so when it was not his birthday.

My body was already taking me closer to the boy by time I caught up with it. Naruto's head snapped up when he heard my purposefully loud steps and the flash of panic in his eyes tore deeper than anything this new world had yet to throw my way. This kid was meant to laugh, cheer. He deserved to be loved and looked after. He crouched slightly, knees bent to make his dash for freedom easier. Naruto moved one hand in front of his chest with the other arm bent close to his side and for a moment I wondered if the villagers had ever hit him.

"Hey," I greeted quietly, stopping with a yard or so between us. The blond did not make a move to reply and I withheld an exhausted sigh. I wished he could make this easier for me because, for all my years, I was not particularly great at starting conversations. Clearing my throat, I tried again, "What's your name?"

"Naruto." He didn't calm down but I easily spotted the curiosity as he eyed me. Mentally I smirked in amusement.

"Naruto, huh," I tipped my head to the side with a small smile, "like those fishcakes in ramen?"

Whatever he had been expecting when I approached him had not been _that_. His mouth opened only to close a few times and I couldn't deny the chance to tease him, "That's a nice impersonation of the fish before they're turned into paste. Got any others?"

"I'm not a fish," Naruto cried out in shock turned indignation.

"I know that." He appeared pleased with my admission but the smug smile on his lips fell when I continued, "You're a fish_cake." _

"At least I don't look like a tomato," Naruto babbled after he found something he could pick on. I snorted at the irony. Oh, I was sure the kid's mother would have pounded him into the ground for that one.

"Ah, guess we better stay away from the Akimichi then. They might try to eat us." Naruto cackled as he wrapped one arm around his middle, finally easing out of his defensive posture. Grinning in satisfaction at my handy work, I nearly missed the goose bumps tracing his forearms and neck. My jacket slipped off without difficulty and I determinedly ignored the chill on my newly bare skin in favor of dropping my jacket across Naruto's shoulders. The six year old looked like he was drowning in it with the hem falling to his knees. Bright blue eyes stared up at me in surprise. I quickly stepped in before the boy could act on his pride and deny my impromptu gift.

"You know, I think you look better in white." Naruto blinked before scuffing and turning his head away from me. Despite his obvious reluctance, he pushed his arms through the sleeves, rolling them so his hands were visible. I dutifully pretended not to notice. "Come on, I'll walk you home, Fishcake."

The swings swung slowly in the wind; soft clinking of chains echoed in the mostly abandoned playground. Their shadows extended far beyond the metal slide and worn jungle gym. Purple clouds surrounding the horizon notified me that the sun had set when my back was turned on it. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my black pants, carefully navigating my way through the park and taking the stairs two at a time. Naruto ran into my back when I stopped short.

"What was that for," he questioned from behind the hand rubbing at his nose. I glanced down at him before looking back at the darkening sky.

"I don't know where you live."

"This way Tomato," Naruto sighed with slumping shoulders. The blond caught my elbow and steadily spun me towards the left, opposite of the way home was.

There was something utterly calming about strolling through the busy crowds of Konoha. At this hour they were often rushing to finish last minute business or dressed up for a night out. Children were getting their last few seconds of playing in, blatantly ignoring the calls of their mothers and fathers. Some shops were being locked up while restaurants were quickly being opened to welcome the swelling crowds. There was peace in the chaos that I thrived on.

A quick peek at my companion told me that he was enjoying it as well. At least, he had been until the whispers started.

It began with a woman wearing the clothes of a shop keeper, wiping her hands on her yellowing apron. She leaned closer to the dark haired woman beside her and muttered something I didn't catch while pointing rather obviously at Naruto. The second female's eyes widened and then quickly narrowed. As she shook her head in disdain others picked up on what was drawing their attention. Soon the masses we had been weaving through parted for us like the villagers were afraid Naruto would infect them with something like small pocks.

The weight of the stares were affecting the blond. His shoulder hunched in on themselves to make him appear smaller. He ducked so that his bangs covered his eyes and he wrapped his arms around himself. That was when I realized that Naruto, the boy who could let anything roll off his back, had not yet grown the thick skin that would protect him.

"You going to go to the academy," I asked, moving so that there was only an inch or so between us. Several stares were directed at me along with the boy's stare. It took a moment but he nodded in confirmation. I mimicked his nod and kept talking, "I'll be graduating in a few days. I managed to snatch an early release but so did over half my class. Guess that's not somethin to brag 'bout."

"Wait, you're a ninja?"

"Almost, but yea." I grinned as his mind was seemingly cleared of the disgusted civilians as he grasped onto one word.

"I'm going to be the best shinobi there ever was. I'll be Hokage," he cheered happily, practically skipping along at my side. This was the Naruto I remembered from before, if only a little. Over the years I had come to the conclusion that I would not be able to recall anything other than vague ideas and even they were unreliable. My mere presence in this world was enough to change a handful of things and after a certain point I knew I would take a more active role in shaping the future.

Until that time, I would make sure that nothing changed the path of the Rookie Nine. That included allowing the bad things to happen. It was selfish to give Naruto a taste of having someone there for him only to take it away again. Once I dropped him off I wouldn't be seeing the blond again. Perhaps that was cruel but it was for the better of many.

Hopefully this one day would not make any drastic changes in the lovable blond.

"Oi! You coming or what?" I snapped out of my thoughts to see Naruto half a block ahead of me.

"Yea, yea. Keep your pants on, Fishcake."

"Don't call me that, Tomato!"

* * *

The paper football shot off my desk to land somewhere in the crowd in front of me. We were waiting for the testing to begin, having shown up perhaps a little too early. Not that us orphan kids had much else to do other than go to school. Everyone was impatient, some basically vibrating in their seats with energy.

A second football sailed through the air, miraculously missing a pair of hands that rose in its path. It bounced off the edge of a desk, spinning end over end. A small smile was born as I figured just where it would land. The purple haired girl barely flinched as my paper creation sunk into her irritatingly well manicured braided-bun-thing. Just beyond her I met eyes with one of the boys in our class. He appeared to be torn between wanting to laugh and telling the girl she had something in her hair, teeth pressing into his bottom lip with his indecision.

Lucky for me our teacher chose that moment to waltz through the door. He tried in vain to straighten his oddly damp chunin vest to the sound of a couple snickers. The man was just the newest, and last, victim of our rather rambunctious class. The lack of reaction we ever got out of him was a testament in itself to just how far we had pushed the man.

"Today you all will be taking the test required to be placed on a genin team with a jonin. There will be three parts to this: a written exam, a practical portion in which you will be tested on your skill, and a ninjutsu part. Fail either and you have the choice to repeat a year or quit." His words had been interrupted multiple times but he had kept his head high, never stopping despite the droplets of orange juice sliding down the side of his face.. If there was an award for teacher of the year, our teacher was the one who deserved it most.

At the appearance of a stack of paper the room hushed on its own. We may give the man a hard time but we still wanted to pass. For many of us, forward was the only direction to go.

"You have an hour to finish this. If you complete it early please turn your test over and wait for my signal," he explained, setting my test down on the word 'over.' My eyes scanned over the exam when we were told to begin and I didn't bother to repress my sigh. It figured that over half the questions were of the sort we would never use.

An hour and ten minutes later found my class in the training area located off to the side of the building. The teacher, which I recognized as our third year instructor, was telling us the rules of the second test. She rubbed the bridge of her nose as a girl asked in a rather cheeky manner if the woman ever got the lime green dye out of her kimono. That had been one of our more destructively creative pranks. Honestly, what had she expected to happen by wearing such a fancy item to class with 9 year olds?

As my first shuriken dug into the target a quarter inch away from the center I wondered about the practicality of passing kids based on their throwing skills. There had to be some who were fantastic at throwing their weapons while others weren't. Then again, since we were noobs, it made sense that they required us to have as many near perfected skills as possible. I cleared my mind as another shuriken found its way between the first and the bull's eye.

Half an hour later and we were all crowded in the hallway, waiting for the teachers to call our name. I fiddled idly with the hem of my tank top, trying not to become antsy. Tests of any sort had never been my forte in the old world and it seemed that that trait had followed me here. In an attempt to distract myself I thought back to my encounter with Naruto.

He had been almost sad when we had arrived at his house. It was only through past experience that I was able to resist the blue puppy eyes he wore while trying to wheedle another meeting out of me. My daughter had tried that one too many times in the old world, though her eyes hadn't been as truly blue as his. Still, I succumbed to leaving with a 'see you later' that I was sure the blond had taken as a promise.

"Go, Tachibana." The deceptively soft voice drew me from my thoughts to the sight of one of the less psychotic students. His tanned hands were tucked into his back pockets as he walked past me, brand new hitai-ate doing nothing to keep dark grey hair from hanging against his cheeks. Meeting the exited glances of my remaining classmates, I straightened my shoulders and slid open the thin door to the exam room.

Two teachers were positioned at the slim table which held quite a collection of hitai-ate.

"You'll need to show us the Substitution, Clone, and Transformation jutsu. Begin when you're ready," said the man. I had never met him before in all my days at the academy. It made sense that, for this part, the chunin testing us would not have any emotional connection to us. They were completely impartial in their judgment.

I brought my hands up in preparation, concentrating on the chakra pumping below my skin. In stories I once read, the person from my world was often depicted as being acutely aware of their chakra coils because they were foreign. Imagine my surprise when I discovered the opposite was true.

After Team Minato held me I actively sought out my chakra for a year before I stumbled upon it. I was amazed to find that my body felt the same as it always had in the old world and yet there was my chakra. I came to the conclusion that chakra was very much present in the old world. Just, no one knew how to use it or even detect it.

A cloud of smoke shrouded my body as I threw up the illusion that I was the woman standing behind her seat at the table. One thin eyebrow rose in entertainment and I fought off a grin to mimic the expression. The man was bobbing his head as he wrote something down, motioning with his free hand for me to keep going.

I took a look about the room, halting only when I spotted a tall, thick potted plant in the corner. With precision born of constant training, I held my breath and switched places with the vegetation. Though severely underrated, the jutsu used to leave me disoriented and a little sick when I first used it. There was some element of changing locations with an inanimate object that forced my stomach into my shoes. Suffice to say, I spent many a day countering the side effects.

A dizzy ninja was a dead ninja after all.

The leaves of the plant shifted while I summoned my chakra to my hands. Four smoke clouds appeared and I casually switched places with the clone on my right. Clones of this sort were not good for much more than distractions and even then they were easy to spot to the trained eye. My point was proven when both chunin met my gaze evenly. Obviously I had failed to trick them but that was okay. I would have lost any respect I had for them if they were so easily fooled.

"Not the best we've seen, but good enough. You pass." The man smiled politely.

"Welcome to the league, Tachibana." The woman held out a forehead protector that I carefully accepted. Pride burned uneasily in my chest as I accepted the item while I forced my hands not to tremble as I tied it securely around my forehead. Half my brain paid attention as the instructors told me to come back in tomorrow to meet my team and to send in the next kid. I was sure I thanked them as I left but that might have been my imagination.

"Good job, Minori." I looked up at a smiling girl as she patted my shoulder lightly.

"Thanks and good luck, Kokoro."

The brunette brought a fist to her nonexistent chest and smirked, "Luck's got nothing to do with it."

I laughed at that, waving my hand back and forth to clear the air, "Sure sure, Uchiha. Anyways, its your turn Mitsuo." I jerked my thumb over my shoulder as I turned from the girl and grinned at a boy standing beside Kokoro. He nodded once, appearing to be caught between bailing and facing the music. I left him in the tender hands of the cocky girl as I picked one of the fastest routes out of the building.

The window opened with the smallest amount of force applied to it.

* * *

Laughter bounced off the graying walls of what once was a large family home. Cracks ran unopposed like sporadically applied brush strokes along the ceiling. The wooden flooring was worn from so many feet walking over them. Orange lighting chased the creeping shadows into the corners to hold them captive until the sun returned. A pale colored door stuck on its tracks for a moment before I could jerk it open, much to my ultimate annoyance.

"Ninja," cried a particularly loud toddler from his perch atop a counter. His chubby hands clapped in glee of the sort only seen in very young children. Burnt ginger curls swung in tune to his movements as he rocked side to side.

"Careful that ya don' fall, Toshio." The reprimand came from his older brother who set his hands on either side of the counter. Toshio's face twisted with displeasure as he met an onyx gaze that could match his green glare any day.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud," Saki said. Takeshi snorted at the civilian, never looking away from his baby brother. Saki rolled her eyes skyward while probably wondering why Fumio insisted on accepting any brats the orphanages couldn't handle. I only guessed that was her thought because I had often found myself questioning the man's sanity.

The table creaked as I climbed on top of it with my feet resting in the chair I knew it was preferred I used. I dismissed the expression Takeshi sent my way in favor of digging an orange from the pouch that hung from my hip. It wasn't like the kind that shinobi used but it served its purpose well. My thumb nail pierced the flesh of the fruit without too much trouble and I turned the orange away from me in time to miss the spray. I had never once bothered to wonder why it burned when the spray came in contact with my eyes, I just knew not to let it happen.

Placing the first piece into my mouth I watched Saki offer Toshio some of whatever she was cooking. The little boy eyed the food wearily. She pushed the spoon closer to his mouth which earned her a high pitched 'no.' Takeshi was outright laughing at her when Toshio knocked the wooden spoon from her hands where it clattered on the floor. Saki retaliated with a well timed swat at the back of the teenager's head.

I had long accepted that I did not belong in the familial image the trio created. Fumio had a tendency to open his arms to a kid with no where else to go, though only when he had room. I was the first in a long line of children aiming to become shinobi that made it past the academy exam. Saki was the oldest in the house and her dreams had come crashing down when she realized that she would rather have a family than sacrifice herself. She would be turning 15 in a handful of weeks and she had already started training under a chef to one day open her own restaurant.

Takeshi's hopes had been crushed by a medical condition. It was during a physical exam in his second year that they found a heart murmur. I was shocked to find out that in a world where fatal wounds could be healed with a touch that such services cost money. More money than a simple shinobi hopeful could ever dream of affording. Takeshi claimed he wasn't bothered by it anymore. Toshio had no relatives to speak of and Takeshi would be damned if he did anything that would take him away from the toddler.

Then there was the boy who's bed I now slept in. Jun had been about to graduate from the academy when the Kyuubi attack occurred. He had been crushed to death while trying to help the civilians to safety.

A tug at my braid caused me to turn and face the pale eyes of Fumio. His gnarled fingers deftly tossed the end of my braid at my face and I caught with the reflexes I had been sharpening over the years. The man had once been a fine jonin but an incident with a poison expert had left him blind. Shinobi did not waste opportunities and a passing Kumo nin had unleashed a vicious fire jutsu. A group of Iwa nin with a particular grudge had distracted the others long enough for a few Konoha shinobi to find him.

"Will you be cutting your hair this year," he asked with a twisted half smile. Though it high lighted the burn scars on his cheek it did not take away any of the warmth in it.

"I'm not sure," I answered with a possessive hold on my hair. I had avoided trimming it since the day Naruto was born six years ago. There was no rhyme or reason that I could see to keeping it long but I couldn't find it in me to get rid of it. My father had loved toying with my dark crimson hair and, in one way or another, it reminded me of him. Silly since his hair had been a black richer than that of the deepest nights.

"If you plan on being a kunochi, you really should cut it. More so if you want to be a close range fighter." Saki had wandered away from the stove, one hand raised to tap her chin unconsciously in thought.

"Ma, if Minori wants ta keep it long then I think she aught 'a. 'S not like some nuke nin is gonna resort ta hair pullin," Takeshi spoke up with a chuckle. He dodged Saki's wayward hand and Toshio clapped his hands happily from his new seat on his brother's hip.

"I'll be careful, I promise." Fumio twirled a kunai expertly and I couldn't resist placing my head in my hands.

"Not the blind guy!" My cry of mock terror filled the room with laughter. I might not have been able to fit in the picture the trio made but, with Fumio at my side, we stretched it until there was enough room.

* * *

My fingers had a mind of their own as the racked through my newly cut hair, as if obsessing over the loss. I had finally given in and allowed Fumio to do the honors. Of course he had simply grasped my braid and sliced through its base. Saki had yelled his ear off for that one before stealing the kunai and fixing my hair to the best of her abilities. It had been far from what I had planned on doing, I was satisfied with my new style.

I sat up straighter in my seat as the teacher strolled into the room. His shoulders were relaxed for once because none of us had set up a trap for him this morning. We were, after all, no longer his students. He seemed to acknowledge the unsaid words and looked at the ground with a fond smile.

"Alright guys. You are now all officially shinobi and kunochi," cheers cut off his speech but instead of continuing without pause, our final teacher chuckled.

"From today onward, you will be the defenders of Konohagakure and expected to do your all for it. This will include the willingness to die in the line of duty." Our teacher tucked his hands into his pockets where they clenched tightly. The last war was still going strong when we were born. This almost guaranteed that he had lost at least someone. He knew more than what my classmates did, had seen more than they could imagine. I tucked a portion of my bangs behind my ear. If I sat even straighter in my seat, no one mentioned it.

"I will not be there to hold your hands so," he came to a halt, looking as if he couldn't find just the right words to say, "So, don't you dare not give the jonin assigned to you an easy time!" We laughed because we didn't have the heart to ask what he had been planning on saying.

"I'll be calling out the teams now, make sure your listening!"

The way I saw life was, if someone told you to listen you could usually get away with doing the opposite. I watched quietly as the first two teams were called. They had exited the room without too much fuss, going to meet their jonin in another place.

"Say what?" I snorted with thinly veiled amusement as our resident Uchiha leapt to her feet, hands coming down on her desk with a slap.

"I said, Team 3 consists of Kokoro Uchiha, Arata Sarutobi, and Daiki Akimichi. What part did you not understand?" Kokoro ignored the jab as she sunk into her seat, muttering under her breath about the 'unfairness of it all.' Anyone who saw how Daiki and Kokoro reacted to each other would say they were as compatible as fire and water. I don't think I ever felt so sorry for the quiet Sarutobi.

"Team 4 will be under Hamaki Mimura. The genin are as follows: Mitsuo Keirin, Satoshi Fuyuzora, and Minori Tachibana. Mr. Mimura is waiting in room 364." I, like my teammates, stalked through the aisles until we stood in front of the door. Looking between them, I wondered if our jonin would be able to keep us from inadvertently killing each other.

* * *

**Author's Note:** That's chapter one. Hope you guys liked it and yes, everyone I introduced in the chapter will play a part in the story. Some people just have larger roles. As for their jonin, Hamaki Mimura is an actual character in Naruto. He was the guy Minato helped out during that mission where Obito 'died.' I'll be heading out to fix up the prologue under the advice of my lovely reviewers. And thank you for reading my story, reader!


	3. Empty Spaces

**Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long with this chapter. My muse decided that running away to Thailand was the most brilliant thing to do; she left me with a half finished chapter that was only partly thought out. Yea, I hate her too.**

**And I have a poll on my profile that I would for you guys to look at. :D**

* * *

**Blackbirds Follow**

**Empty Spaces**

* * *

The classroom was one that was supposed to be used for a fourth group of seventh year students. Due to the war there were less adults who became parents and the Kyubi took out a good deal of what had. Dust laid upon the unused desks and I almost smiled at the crude carving of a smiley face with short, curly hair that a previous student had left behind. Small holes decorated the faded wallpaper as evidence of an incident involving shuriken.

Hamaki Mimura did not move from his place in front of the teacher's podium and it was with cautious uncertainty that we filed into the room. I sat on the table nearest the man, wondering why so few shinobi had facial hair like he did. Though, what he had counted more as a "U" shape of facial hair that ended and started on each side of his nose and curved under his chin. Aside from the bandana he had turned his hitai-ate into, the man looked like any other jonin in Konoha.

"I am Hamaki Mimura, a jonin of Konoha and your potential team leader." The midmorning light caught the metal plate covering the back of his right fingerless glove. He met each of our gazes in turn and I failed to fight the tightening of my shoulders. His eyes were dark, narrowed and full of more ghosts than any other I could recall ever seeing. They were the eyes of someone who had seen countless perish right from under his nose while he had been unable to stop their deaths. The jonin carried each one on his back but refused to show that they were surely caving him in. No man could endure that without caving in at some point.

"I will be giving you once last test." No one reacted to the words because our teacher had explained that it was a jonin's choice to administrate a second exam or not. Most did not test their students but there was the occasional jonin that did.

"Follow me and I shall take you to where your test is to be completed," Hamaki turned on his heel without another word, giving us a moment to gather ourselves.

"No time like the present, yeah," I asked lazily while hopping off my desk with as much energy as any 11 year old could muster. Hamaki was disappearing around the door frame when Satoshi merely lifted one shoulder and stood from the seat he had taken on the floor. I motioned for my last teammate to come along, breaking him from his inner conflict long enough that he made it out the door in a heartbeat.

There was always something about leaving a place vacant of life and yet so full of history that brought about the finer points of my observation skills. Mitsuo kept a distance from our tanned partner that was a bit more than polite. Scared fingers of his left hand toyed with the end of his brutally short ponytail as if he were annoyed with the thin strands of honey brown. His walk was stiff and, if I shouldn't have been able to spot his incredibly well hidden limp, I would have asked him what he had done to injure his right knee.

The weather was warmer than it had been, giving Konohagakure a taste of an Indian Summer. It was strange that such terms would come to mind when I had not heard them in decades. At times it would feel as if I had only just awoken in this world where men fought with throwing knives and jutsu rather than bombs and bullets. I'd lay in bed on those nights; chasing the nightmares of a world that lived solely within my memories.

I shook my head to dislodge the fleeting pieces of past names, places, and feelings. My dark brown eyes sought out my second teammate if only to distract me from my self-examination. Psychology had interested me all my life but I had no wish of trying to dissect my own brain, problems.

Satoshi's hair blew away from Konoha's insignia on his forehead, revealing the spot for the first time in forever. Autumn's sun highlighted his high cheek bones and the silver streaks in his drab, dark grey hair. The boy could have made a very pretty girl if he wasn't born with a troublesome Y chromosome. Satoshi did not slouch as we made our way past the academy's training ground but he still held the air of indifference well. Despite this, his nearly onyx eyes were sharp when they passed me over to watch an elderly woman walking hand in hand with a little girl half our age.

The child was rubbing at the remains of tear streaks with her free hand. Her grandmother was whispering words of comfort that we no longer knew. I might have had Saki, Takeshi, Toshio, and Fumio but they could never fill the place my father once held. Satoshi and Mitsuo were orphans just like me; they had lost their parents early in life. From what little I knew, neither boy had been accepted into a foster home as I had. My strange luck had followed me here despite its utter failure in the other world.

I mean, I had bled to death via a hole blown into my chest only to be born again when my heart stopped with my stomach having formed outside of my body. My mother had died during childbirth and my father was a shinobi cripple. Yet, my father had not died during the war and raised me to the best of his abilities until he died. I lived in the orphanage near the south wall of Konohagakure for a year and a half. Fumio was able to give me a room because the old owner had died on the same day my father had.

A frown marred my olive toned face as I realized that I had allowed my mind to wander yet again. A habit like that one could get even the best of ninja killed in the blink of an eye. Distracted ninja were dead ninja walking.

Turning my brain back onto the path of focus, I took note of a strange fact: any shinobi who spotted my jonin automatically changed their course so that they would not run into him. The ones who were sitting down ducked their heads to avoid eye contact. Their movements were subtle little things that most would not notice or would play off as another other odd thing shinobi do. Hamaki gave the reaction of any stony faced statue to a bird sitting atop its head. He was neither overly stiff nor entirely indifferent to the world around him, however, as he tugged lightly at the gloves he wore.

"Think we should ask him about the test?" My head snapped to the right in surprise at the sound; meeting Mitsuo's alarm dead on. Teal colored eyes were large in their shock before narrowing in panic as the boy glanced around us, lingering in any shadowy area. He repeated this twice but never reacted if he had found something. I, myself, hadn't been able to spot anyone nearby and perhaps that was the reason Mitsuo allowed his body to relax a fraction.

"Um," I stole a peek at our other team member to see if he had seen what I just had to no avail. The boy was walking along as calmly as he had since we had left the shopping district of Konohagakure. "I-I'll ask."

The frown reappeared on my lips at the slight stutter. There were many faults I possessed, but tripping over my words had never been one of them. Taking the unoccupied spot beside my jonin, I pushed the thoughts into the back of my mind where my less than half formed ideas on how to save the world were kept next to thoughts of world domination and embarrassed memories. Hamaki did not outwardly acknowledge my presence, but I knew he was aware that I was there.

"What's our test 'bout, sir?" I tacked on the last word after a moment of thought. Mitsuo and Satoshi slowly gravitated to my right were our jonin would be able to look at us as one if he so chose. Mitsuo actually twitched as the man took his time in thinking out his reply.

"It will be a timed test," Hamaki began, brown eyes never wandering from the dirt path in front of us and only occasionally ducking to avoid a low hanging branch. We had left the well worn path minutes before. "You each will be given a sealed scroll which you may not open. I will be your enemy and attempting to steal the scrolls from you. You fail if do not have a scroll before the three hours are up."

"How do we pass," I asked when no one else made to.

"You have a scroll when the timer goes off," Hamaki answered stoically, producing a small, orange colored timer from within his hip pouch. The man moved off the trail on one of the many side paths that slithered into the thickening forest. We were in the training grounds of Konohagakure that were located towards the outskirts of the village. Following him lead us into a rather small clearing surrounded on all sides by trees.

"These are your scrolls," a thin, beaten scroll was tossed to each of us, "Time starts as soon as I leave." Hamaki did not waste a movement, bending down to place the timer on the ground beside a thick tree that suffered from kunai wounds that could have been as old as the boys were. The jonin met our gaze for a moment, challenging us with the simple stare before he disappeared with a quick Body Flicker.

Immediately I slipped my scroll into the pouch attached to my hip, mind racing with the possibilities. Hamaki could take us all out as we were without so much as a scratch, but that did not mean he wouldn't take the easy way and split us apart. If he had earth natured chakra he could have been sitting right under our feet and none of us would have been any the wiser. Hell, even if he stuck to Substitution and kicking with his left foot, we'd still lose.

Yea, I was really feeling we could win here.

"We stick together." His soft voice broke through my thoughts and my errant mind noted that Satoshi was quite good at doing that. Satoshi looked between us but as the silence dragged on his hands balled into fists at his sides, "We should set some traps and figure out how best to defend our scrolls."

"I'm not too good at making traps." He frowned at my words like one would if a kid had taken his preferred seat at the lunch table. Mitsuo was already shaking his admission that he was no better off in the department and Satoshi's expression morphed into that of a child who had lost his place in the front row of a parade.

"All I'm good at is using some taijutsu and my kunai," I muttered softly, completely aware that any shinobi worth his salt would still hear what I had said.

"I only have taijutsu," Mitsuo added with no amount of difficulty.

"Me too," Satoshi replied. His tongue pressed against the inside of his left cheek, bulging it out slightly.

"Then we should stand at each other's backs and wait for his move. There really isn't much else we can do." The duo nodded at my statement, tucking their scrolls into their hip pouches much like I had. Painfully trained on our surroundings, we turn our backs to each other one at a time.

"We have to wait out the clock with our scrolls in tact to pass," Satoshi said from my left. It wasn't something that needed to be spoken aloud but it did ease the tense silence we were in. The wind brushed against the tree branches, forcing them to bend and wave under the pressure. Leaves rubbed together and sometimes fell from their perches to the barren ground that made up the clearing.

Hamaki did not keep us waiting long.

"Minori!" I heard Satoshi's warning around the same moment I caught the glint of shuriken cutting through the air. A kunai was freed from my thigh pouch and I swung the weapon up in a neat arch, deflecting the trio of ninja stars. They ate the dirt on either side of me.

"Distraction," Mitsuo shouted out, grasping the edge of both our sleeves; he tugged us into a crouch as five kunai shot over our heads and bit into the bark of another battle worn tree. I struggled not to fall onto my side at the odd angle I was in, searching the boundaries of our clearing for any sign of our jonin. Satoshi's elbow dug uncomfortably into my ribs as he tried to hide the four shuriken in his right hand from prying eyes.

I shifted slightly to relieve the pressure when something thin pressed into my cheek. My eyes traced the wire's path to were it ended tied to one of the shuriken Hamaki had thrown at us. I did not need to see where the other end was to know that our jonin was planning something.

"Ninja wire; scatter!"

"Fire Release: Dragon Fire Technique!" Red, angry flames raced down the lines towards us. Reacting on the simple fact that fire was bad, I dove under the ninja wire I had discovered and rolled away. My arms rose to shield my face from the heat; smoke seared my senses as the place my team had been crouched at was devoured by flames. My hands held my kunai at the ready while I forced my legs to support my weight despite the shock that attempted to hold them captive. I, however, couldn't stop the swell of worry in my chest as the seconds dragged on and the boys did not emerge from the smoke.

"Satoshi? Mitsuo!"

"D-Damnit," cursed Satoshi as he stumbled around the fire pit that was slowly disappearing, one hand waving the smoke away in annoyance. He stopped a few feet from me, seeming to search for any injuries I might have acquired. His dark grey head bobbed once before he turned his attention to where our missing teammate should have been.

"He tried to kill us," came the dulled voice of a dumbfounded 11 year old. I stepped forward carefully as a familiar silhouette became visible beside the fading embers at our feet. Mitsuo faced us, mouth hanging open as if he had forgotten how to close it.

"I think that's the point." My eyebrows pulled together as I thought over Satoshi's words. Something tickled at the back of my mind, dashing away when I reached for it. It was a warm yet frustrating feeling; knowing that this one thing was most likely a memory shrouded in contentment. My teeth pinched the inside of my lower lip in a display of my feelings.

"Hamaki is pushing us to treat this as a real mission. He does not want us holding back in the slightest," he murmured with a slow shake of his head. Mitsuo stood between us as he listened to Satoshi.

"Then we better give him one hell of a fight then," I smiled at the boys, recognizing the promise of vengeance in their eyes. Hamaki wanted us to hand him his backside?

Challenge accepted!

* * *

A gloved hand blocked my kunai with the protective metal attached to its back; the clang of metal on metal signaling my allies. I watched with a bright smirk as Hamaki's mouth hardened into a thin line. He knocked my arm back, going low just in time to dodge a high kick from Mitsuo. The preteen grunted as Hamaki swept the leg he was standing on out from under him but he adjusted accordingly. He landed on his hands, pushing away from the earth in an odd cartwheel.

Satoshi came at the jonin's exposed back, bringing his leg down harshly at where the man was still squatted. Hamaki grabbed the limb with one hand and deflected my thrown shuriken with a kunai in the other. Mitsuo came in again, his arm raised to throw a punch at Hamaki's chest while Satoshi dropped back onto his hands, swinging out with his left leg.

It was with a grace I could only hope to have that the man threw Satoshi like he was a mace, colliding his body with that of the charging Mitsuo. The later gasped in surprise as his face met dirt and the grey haired boy choked back a cry when he was dropped, adding to the pressure on his teammate's face. Hamaki looked down at his work without a visible emotion before bending down to steal their scrolls.

"Stop," I shouted, throwing a kunai at him. My hands stumbled in their haste to chase the kunai with several shuriken but I managed to get them going. He did not flinch at the incoming weapons, merely choosing to capture the kunai with his free hand and deflecting the shuriken with ease. I knew it was a losing battle from the start as a smile broke across my face. Hamaki's eyes sharpened for a moment before he looked at the kunai in his hand. My kunai. With an explosive note wrapped around its handle.

The tag did not require any phrase to activate it, exploding when its time ran out. Smoke and fire burst forth from the seemingly harmless note. My vision was obscured by my eyelids in order to protect them from any debris but this also left me vulnerable to attack.

A crushing force connected with the small of my back and threw me into the charred remains of a log. It crumbled under me, allowing my momentum to carry me further away from my attacker. The first layer of my skin was scrubbed off by the harsh dirt and it was only with vague amusement that I imagined that the jonin had used his left foot in his attack.

I stared up at the darkening sky with a mild sense of discomfort as patches along my arms, chin, and shins began to burn. My body was starting up the healing process and I knew that a red mark was blossoming over my lower back, purple waiting for its chance to take over. The grunts of exertion caused my head to shift until Hamaki was within my view. He swiftly redirected Mitsuo's punch, tossing him off balance. Honey brown hair fell forward as he performed another of his half cartwheels and I wondered just when it had been cut free of its hair tie.

Temples throbbing in protest, I pushed myself into a low crouch. My fingers found the last three shuriken that I had; it was with a wry twist to my lips that I thought of how long it would take me to gather my weapons after battle. I really needed to think up a way to get around that. I closed the distance between the three of us as quickly as I could while Mitsuo leapt out of the way of the jonin's kunai. Hamaki did not give him a moment to readjust his stance, cutting upwards with a second kunai.

I lashed out with my fist, shuriken sticking out from between my knuckles as my teammate was replaced with a log. The jonin's fingers wrapped around my wrist tightly, finger nails piercing the tender skin under them. My knee was blocked with the opened palm of his opposite hand and my free fist shot out to slam into his right shoulder, wanting to force him into releasing my right hand. My blow never connected as Hamaki dropped me all together in favor of jumping out of the way of six kunai.

The weapons met in midair, colliding and changing their directions before falling to the ground below them. Satoshi took up position on my left side looking more than a little roughed up. Mitsuo filled the vacant place on my other side, crouching to gather the kunai nearest him. The hem of his shirt was blackened from the second fire jutsu our jonin had thrown our way in the battler. I turned my attention to where our jonin was standing tall in the center of the clearing, eyeing us with something I couldn't decipher. We tensed as his hands flew through five hand seals in a deliberate fashion.

"Wind Release: Great-" Hamaki stopped short as a soft chime filled the clearing. It rang thrice in the ensuring silence before stopping. I desperately fought against the urge to glance at the timer that sat behind us in the same position it had been in for the past three hours.

"Did we-" I hardly had the breath to finish my sentence as I looked between my teammates. Satoshi kept his gaze fixed firmly on our teacher as his hand slipped into the pouch on his hip. Mitsuo and I mimicked his actions until the three of us were each holding our scrolls in front of us.

"Congratulations," the deep voice of our instructor allowed the pride I had been struggling with burst forth in the form of a wide grin. "From today onward you will be known as the official Team 4 and I will be your leader. There are many things we must begin fixing if you all are to survive as shinobi but that can wait until tomorrow."

Hamaki crossed his arms loosely over his chest as the elation of passing rushed past the disbelief. My inner child had me throwing my fist in the air with a loud cheer of joy. I knew my cheeks were beginning to ache from smiling so much but I could not, would not stop. I had passed. I was a shinobi of Konohagakure. Though my plans for the future were not fleshed out, I had known that none of it could happen if I did not make it to this point at the very least. Now, if I played my cards right, I could potentially become Team 7's jonin.

If my grin grew wider at the prospect of knocking sense into those brats, it went unnoticed as my team celebrated.

* * *

**Author's Note 2.0: So, I figured I'd post this because I was taking so long. This day actually lasts longer but I felt this was a decent place to end. Oh, and Minori will not replace Kakashi. It was just another errant thought. She has a lot of those. Or is it me? Hm. Either way, I love you reviewers! You make my world go 'round!**

**As always, if there are errors or you think I can improve something, drop me a line and I'll see what I can do. I won't change anything, however, unless I agree with your point so explain yourself when you do. **

**Oh, and if their team work seems too good, it has its reasons that will be explained later. Don't worry, Hamaki has plenty to say about things like their corrdination. :)**


	4. Beginning of a Fool's Journey

**Author's Note: **Whoo! FF let fix the lack of page breaks~!

* * *

**Blackbirds Follow**

**Beginning of a Fool's Journey**

* * *

"_Don't open them until you are ready to give up your childhood completely."_

Hamaki's warning played through my head for the fifth or sixth time since we had broken apart. My hands overturned the scroll I had fought so hard to protect time and time again; fingers inching closer to the lip of the scroll with each rotation. Konohagakure was reduced to a low buzz as it passed around me as if I wasn't even there. Isolation in a sea of individuals. The power driving the wave of nostalgia was disturbing.

Pushing away the haunting memories of buildings scrapping the hazy sky, I turned my attention to what was in my hands. The scroll did not protest as I slipped it open, halting my mindless wander about the village. There were many things I had forgotten about the old world. About my precious yet cursed America. Despite this, I had no intention of digging up what laid buried. I was content to preserve and protect what remained. Though, even I had to admit that it wasn't much.

Ignoring the dull ache in my chest, I examined what the scroll had to offer.

"_You have made your choice. Now you must face the consequences._

_Be at the West Gates a hour before dawn and be prepared to camp out for a week."_

A bitter tasting giggle escaped me as I closed the scroll, storing it in the pouch upon my hip. I took the nearest left without hesitation. Hamaki had no idea of just how often I thought about consequences and the future. My career as a kunochi would take me to all corners of the Elemental Countries and one misstep could change the world the Konoha 13 would grow up in. I could end up injuring the man that was meant to attempt to kidnap Hinata. Neji's father may end up getting to see the jonin his son would become or Kumogakure could get their hands on the Byakugan.

Who really knew where the world would end up after that.

I shook my head to rid myself of the senseless musing, looking up at the gray walled building that made up my home. Three stone steps lead up to the front door that stood beside a struggling bush of some kind. Saki had planted the poor thing long before I had arrived, but no one knew what kind of plant it was exactly. I had always planned on searching through library books until I found the answer. I never got around to it.

Careful not to disturb the slightly crumbling second step on my way, I strolled calmly to the door. My mind was beginning to move onto the topic of what I would pack when someone called out to me.

"That you Minori?"

"Da," I answered quietly, smirking to myself at the odd answer. From around the corner I could hear Saki rolling her eyes at my strange ways. Leaving my sandals by the door, I padded quietly into the living room where the older girl sat folding laundry. She glanced up from the red t-shirt that, if size meant anything, belonged to Toshio and offered me a tired smile.

"How was it?" I shrugged while taking a seat on the floor by the small couch. Bright blue cloth caught my eye and I pulled the long sleeved shirt out of the worn basket before folding it slowly.

"We're to meet our jonin to camp outside for a week tomorrow before the crack of dawn." She giggled at the face I made, knowing that waking up early was one of my least favorite things to do. I much preferred sleeping in for an extra hour or so and rush to get ready than to wake up on time. For the most past I arrived at wherever I was going on time. Mostly.

"Guess you best go to bed early then," she suggested in a tone that told me quite well she already knew what my reply would be. The second burst of giggles at my self-pitying groan confirmed as much.

"What's so funny?" In unison we both looked up to see Fumio leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over a wrapped bundle. As yet another round of giggles echoed through the fairly bare room, I allowed myself to slump against the couch behind me. I sent a half glare at the female from my new position and she muffled her laughter with a dark hand.

"I-its nothing. Really," she managed to say, completely unconvincing. Fumio, thankfully, decided to leave the matter alone. He held out the bundle as he approached us while making sure not to step on me. How he always knew exactly where any of us were was still a puzzle I hadn't been able to solve.

"This is for you, Minori," he cautiously dropped the package on my lap, "Think of it as a graduation present."

The warm smile that tugged at one corner of my lips was utterly sincere. Gifts of any sort were rare for us because the vast majority of our funds went to food and other such things. His present meant that Fumio had been putting away small amounts of money for a very long time. He had never doubted I would become a genin.

"Open it," Saki said with all the eagerness of a puppy. Instead of taking the time to wonder why she would be so excited, I turned the brown paper wrapped item until my fingers found a slit to slide under. I slowly pulled the packaging away to reveal a set of very clean, if not somewhat used clothing. On the very top of the pile was a brown tank top that I could tell would fit better than the grey tank top I had on. Under that was a pair of black ninja-y pants that would easily fall to at least my ankle instead of the pants-turned-capri I wore.

"No way!" The words fell from my lips as I held up the very last item; a forest green sweater that would be more than enough to keep me warm in the oncoming winter. One arm clutching my new clothes against my chest, I rose quickly to throw my other arm around the man's waist, "Thank you so much!"

Fumio chuckled lightly at my reaction while giving my back a light pat.

"Why don't you go try it on," Saki suggested and I nodded my head vigorously before detaching myself from the man who easily could have been my uncle. With a brief wave to the civilian sitting with a red shirt still on her lap, I nearly skipped out of the room to bound up the stairs. They creaked in protest to my speed, but I ignored them in favor of catching the edge of the second door's frame, swinging myself into Jun's room. The door closed behind me with an ever so helpful 'nudge' of my foot.

Articles of clothing fell around me as the ever eyesore, yellow walls kept any peeping toms at bay. The pants were surprisingly soft even though the material looked as if they would chaff and the shirt fell two inches below my waist. My mind wandered to my somewhat obsession with sweaters as I slipped it on. I recalled that in the old world I had adored wearing hoodies at all occasions. One job I had as a waitress actually allowed me to wear my hoodie during work.

Some things couldn't be changed even by death itself.

A grin was already in place as I spun on one heel to face the floor length mirror. Standing tall beside the short, weathered dresser, the piece of glass reflected my image back at me. Fretting hands tugged restlessly at the sleeves of my sweater while I observed the, now familiar, girl watching me.

She was young. No scars marred her skin not because she was less prone to accidents, but because she healed better than I ever had. Her jaw was slimmer and her eyes wider. She was Minori Tachibana, orphan and genin of Konohagakure. She was me, but I was…

It took a slight tilt of my head for the image to be replaced with one that was more alien than it had any right to be. She was not the woman who had been betrayed by Lady Luck, but rather, she was the sixteen year old who thought she was prepared to take on the world. She was the teen who was inspired by a blond boy who had so much faith in himself. That girl was the one who bought into the biggest lies of all.

"Minori! Do you mind running to the store to get some rice? Someone forgot," came Saki's voice from the bottom of the stairs.

"I said I was sorry," Takeshi groaned, no doubt pressing his forehead to the nearest flat surface.

"Alright," I answered loudly enough to be heard over the boy's complaining. I paused in leaving and a sidelong glance at the mirror revealed a redhead determined to protect the future. She may have been a fool, but she had a lifetime of experience to shield her from most of what this world could throw at her. Minori would managed. She had no choice.

"Minori?"

"Coming!"

* * *

Red locks fell from their place over my vision as I tilted my head back, eyes looking but not seeing the royal blue sky above. Dawn was approaching quickly and yet I still sat alone against the wall that surrounded Konohagakure. The hour, I knew, had already passed. They were late; all three of them were late to our first day as Team 4. Watching as the horizon opposite me began to give way to rich purple and the faintest hints of pink, I wondered if this was a sign of some sort.

"Tachibana," the smooth drawl had me turning my head to the right. Dropping like a stone, my jonin fell from the top of the wall to land beside me without a sound. In the dim light his eyes were the color of coals awaiting the flame to engulf them. There was a hint of resignation about the man that caused me to question if he had intended for us to give up.

"Mimura, sir." His brow furrowed at the formal yet informal greeting.

"Hamaki will do just fine." I blinked at him, keeping my face neatly blank.

"So is Minori, Mimura." A frown formed along his thin lips, but his attention on me was broken quickly.

"Greetings, Minori and Mimura." I shifted to meet the owner of the soft voice, unsurprised to find Satoshi only a yard away from us.

"Mornin'," I greeted calmly as he held one hand out in an obvious offer to help me to my feet which I gladly accepted. Hamaki merely tipped his head in acknowledgement, his mind only half with us. Where the rest was, I hadn't the faintest idea.

"How goes the going," I asked. Satoshi quirked an eyebrow at my odd way of speaking, but I decided not to respond. He shrugged it off while tucking his hand into the empty pocket of his jacket. The dark brown garment was the only new addition to his attire aside from the beige bag that hung from one shoulder.

"Have you packed adequately for the coming week," he asked in that quiet way of his, completely blowing off my question. I merely hummed in confirmation while bending sideways to gather up the black bag that sat beside the wall. Fumio had been more than willing to help me gather supplies for the trip after dinner. I ended up with things I hadn't even thought to bring with me, but I knew I would later be grateful for.

"Hi guys!" We turned to see our final teammate walking towards us with the first hint of the sun at his back. Mitsuo was waving one arm in the air, his opposite hand wrapped securely around the strap of a gray backpack.

"Perfect timing," I said lightly. He rubbed at his neck with a soft laugh and I smiled. It had been far too long since I had last seen the boy so relaxed. It was a change I was thrilled to see.

"Are you ready?" Hamaki had drawn all our attention to him with the simple words, but I had no doubt that each of us felt the weight of the query. This was our last chance to back out. It came as no surprise that none of us did, instead choosing to nod our agreement.

"Lets get going then."

* * *

My arms crossed even as I was forced to one knee; I was determined not to allow the man's foot to connect with my body. Hamaki pressed harder and my arms began to shake under the weight. Briefly, I considered the idea of cursing my lack of strength, but I pushed those thoughts away. I was only eleven. A contest of strength would always be in my jonin's favor until I was older.

Nearly black eyes zeroed in on my display of weakness. He did nothing to hide the next step in his plan because we both knew I had gotten myself into a difficult position. I rolled to the right as the sound of running feet caught my attention. As grass bent under my body, I felt a foot plant itself on my back. Satoshi used me as a springboard to gain air and bring a punch down upon our jonin from above.

I climbed to my hands and knees, watching as Hamaki threw out his own punch. Naturally his longer arm hit the boy first. I flinched as the grey haired boy flew through the air over my head, crashing into the dirt hard enough to bounce up before falling again. A flicker of honey brown drew my eye enough for me to acknowledge to myself that Mitsuo was coming.

I dutifully ignored the ache between my shoulders as I charged at my jonin from the side, a kunai tucked against the inside of my wrist. Hamaki shifted on his feet to make his counterattack easier, but it never came. My hand reached out in a false punch. A twitch of my wrist brought the kunai forward in an attempt to close the distance Satoshi had been unable to. There was no dramatic widening of eyes or choked words. There was only the barest tightening of Hamaki's lips.

And then he was gone.

"Whoa," Mitsuo cried out as our jonin replaced himself with a log and he was forced to dodge around it and me. The piece of wood was forgotten as we slowly backed up, stopping only when our backs were pressed together. Though my time at the orphanage had been shorter than Mitsuo's, shorter than Satoshi's, that did not mean that the bound we forged was any less real.

We had been old enough to realized that mommy and daddy were not coming back. At four and five we had known that we were left without any family to raise us. It was because of this that most of us orphans came together to recreate the familial ties that had been severed so harshly. Even for me, it had been an unconscious bid for something to bind me to this world. I might have been removed from the orphanage like several others, but we had all rediscovered each other when we went to the academy.

"Satoshi," I whispered quietly, keeping my eyes peeled for our jonin. At the answering groan, Mitsuo and I began to move to our teammate's side.

"Can you get up?" Satoshi's answer came in the form of him pushing himself onto his knees before reaching blindly for the hand he knew was there. Mitsuo easily pulled the shorter boy to his feet, placing one hand on his shoulder to steady him when he wavered. A thin line of red told of his split lip and a bright red hinted at the beginning of a swollen cheek. Both were forgotten as a rain of kunai tried to drown us.

As one unit, we leapt to the side while keeping out backs facing each other. With our enemy hidden from view, we were almost paranoid in our efforts to protect ourselves from possible harm. A dull ring interrupted the training session.

"Your coordination is terrible." Hamaki stepped out from behind a nearby oak tree, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. I pocketed my weapon, but did not move from my position on Mitsuo's left.

"A shinobi needs to be able to read his ally's moves and not simply hope that the other person will cover for any blind spots they leave open," Satoshi clasped his hands behind his back as the jonin continued, "You three are no longer children and cannot be allowed to think as children. You are a unit. You must become an extension of one another."

"That's why we are out here," Mitsuo said. Hamaki nodded once.

"Yes. For the next seven days I will put you through extensive training. There will be no slacking off or I will send you back to Konoha with your genin title stripped." The forest around us was not silent, but the stillness managed to intensify the man's words. On a level that I shouldn't even know about, I understood what he was attempting to do and why. Our lives would be completely in the hands of the other. If we could not learn to understand the way the other fought, than we would never last. We would not remains as whole and complete as we were.

Or as complete as we could be.

"We'll be starting our first exercise today," he pulled two small bags from his pants pocket, "One of you will wear these earplugs." The small bag soared through the air and Mitsuo grabbed it before it could strike his chest.

"Another will be blind," Hamaki walked up to Satoshi and tugged the boy's hitai-ate down over his eyes.

"And the last will be both deaf and blind." I sighed quietly as I caught the bag thrown my way. Inside it sat two innocent looking plugs.

"You're goal will be less about defeating me and more about learning to communicate without having to speak aloud. This test will go on until I call time, you defeat me, or I incapacitated you all," the slightly feral glint in the man's eye told me that I did not want to become incapacitated.

"Mitsuo and Minori, put your earplugs in. The test will start in 30 seconds," with those words the man turned on his heel and disappeared into the trees again. My hands shook slightly as I tore the small bag open. Blindness, I could handle that. Becoming deaf? I could handle that as well. Being both while at the mercy of a skilled opponent?

I glanced at Mitsuo only to see that he had already shoved the squishy items into his ears and was in the process of pressing his back lightly to Satoshi's. A small smile of encouragement was sent my way, but I wasn't fooled. He was a worried as I was. Taking a deep breath, I jammed the things into my ears and took up my position on Mitsuo's left, touching my elbow to Satoshi's. My teeth crushed against each other as I slipped my forehead protector over my eyes, effectively cutting off two of my most precious senses.

Darkness. For 20 some odd years it had terrified me beyond reason. To be without the light, any light, was a nightmare I did most anything to avoid. I had thought I had escaped the fear until it had found me again, out on the battle field where not being able to see was the equivalent of a death sentence. The only thing that frightened me more was darkness surrounded in utter silence.

My other senses did not automatically sharpen. Instead, they slowly increased with smell easily being the most useful. I had never paid attention to it before, but there was a distinctive scent of earth that surrounded Mitsuo. It was almost as if he spent every morning buried up to his neck in dirt. Underneath that was the clinical smell that belonged to the generic soap the village supplied the orphanage with.

The faint breeze I hadn't noticed before shifted and I came in contact with the smell of sweat, dying leaves, and the undeniable iron tinge of blood. That, I realized, was what Satoshi smelt like. Given, the sweat and blood were probably not there everyday, but I found it intriguing that he would smell like Autumn.

A lightly calloused hand grasped my bicep and pulled me forward quickly. My knees locked in preparation to hold my ground before I realized that the hand was far too small to belong to our jonin. Mitsuo tugged at my arm harder than he first had, causing me to stumble forward uncertainly. My hands shot out to protect myself, but they never came in contact with anything. Finger tips brushed feather light along the top of my shoulder and the smell of blood told me it was Satoshi.

I parted my lips as my chest heaved. The situation was more than I had been prepared to handle. To be completely helpless like this again; I couldn't stand it. My hands burned to tear the symbol of my village from my eyes or remove the plugs. The darkness was crowding me in on all sides without a sense of remorse and the silence laughed at me.

Satoshi's hand was on my elbow, guiding me to the right with as much urgency as Mitsuo had, but without the same force. We hadn't covered more than four steps before the boy was pushing me downwards. I allowed myself to crumble under his insistence and I was rewarded with the tingling feeling of something brushing over the crown of my head. Dirt bit into my knees like starved animals while I scrambled to my feet.

I sucked in my lower lip, carefully locking away the names dancing on the tip of my tongue. The boys were no longer beside me. They were as gone as gone could get and I wondered if Hamaki had planned all this. The urge to run blindly into the forest ate away at the corner of my mind, but I shoved it away. There had to be a trick of some sort. Something that could help me salvage this test.

A soundless gasp left me when a fist connected with my collarbone. The world tipped and I fought against gravity to remain on my feet. A second blow clipped my opposite hip, turning me easily and I threw out my elbow as I moved with the spin. Fabric whispered against the bare skin of my arm. It had obviously been to my advantage to ditch my jacket early in the previous fight.

Emboldened by my near hit, I took a step forward out of the spin. On the second step I threw out my left fist. My fingers extended at the last moment to brush against the same warm fabric from earlier. The smallest of smirks slipped onto my face as I followed up the attack with another, this time using my right arm.

A larger hand grasped it tightly mid throw and I dug my heels into the earth, prepared to fight against wherever he decided to throw me. Fingers tugged a few strands of my hair downward from behind as the jonin began to shift in position. Once again my legs collapsed under me and I felt the telltale side breeze from a fist or foot soaring over the top of my head. Hamaki released me in order to dodge or block the attack and I grinned.

Rough hands were on my arms, pulling me backwards quickly. They were not quick enough as a foot slammed against my stomach. Oxygen was forced from my lungs and I choked on a gasp of pain. Something hard struck the back of my head. The last thing I could recall was the feeling of falling.

* * *

**Author's Note: This took me a really long time to write because, despite it looking like a filler, this chapter sets up so many things for later on. Things that are important and have lasting effects. I apologize for the wait and I will try to not leave you hanging for so long again. Thanks for reading. **


	5. Parallels

**Author's Note: Well, shesh! 308 visitors for April and I haven't updated since March? I don't think any of Off the Mark's reincarnations was half as popular as this story and it had 12+ chapters at one point. I adore you guys and it is for you that I sat down and wrote this out**.

* * *

**Blackbirds Follow**

**Parallels**

* * *

Smoke twisted about itself as it ascended to the sky, far above our heads. Crackling was the last form of defiance the piece of wood could offer as our jonin threw it into the fire. Its light played upon the stubble that had begun to form along the edges of his narrow jaw where he normally kept it bare. Briefly I wondered if he was going to shave while we were out here, but I soon dismissed the thought for being unworthy of the energy.

The faint rustle of a sleeping bag brought my eyes to the right. Sometime after I had been knocked out Satoshi had been caught in a fire jutsu; white gauze covered the vast majority of his arms and face. His eyes were shut when he slipped into the depths of his bag, keeping as far from the fire as he could without risking freezing. We had failed our test with such flying colors any child's imaginary unicorn would have been put to shame. Hamaki hadn't said a word to confirm this, but we did not need him to.

A telling puff of white air formed just beyond Mitsuo's swollen lips. The charred end of the stripped stick in his palm jabbed at the fire, stirring up the embers. His hair was thrown back in a short tail, though the tie was made of some ninja wire. One day he would eventually settle for wearing several back up ties around his wrists to prevent the pain of detangling ninja wire from his hair.

I glanced across the camp fire in time to catch our jonin looking up towards the black sky; the moon was nowhere to be found. The feeling that I knew Hamaki better than I had any right to was still very much present; hell, this whole situation could have counted for déjà vu if it was a little stronger.

"What was your team like?" The words did not come from anywhere in particular, but I stood behind them when a questioning glance was sent my way.

"My team," the boys looked towards our jonin as his voice broke the relative silence, "was unique." Hamaki's brown eyes moved over us and he sighed adding the rest almost like an afterthought, "The woman that had led our team was a novice and, in many ways, the bad things that befell us could have been traced back to her inexperience."

His jaw tightened as he looked beyond us upon a scene we would never know. My arms curled around my body as our sensei took to the tree branches, muttering about taking first watch. A soft whisper of fabric told me Mitsuo had buried himself in his sleeping bag much like Satoshi had. We orphans had witnessed the after effects of war and death, but that hadn't been the same as it was on the battle field. No, that was a level of hell we were training to join. We were a type of foolish only veterans could relate too.

I sighed quietly when my shoulders touched the uneven ground below me. Hamaki, he reminded me of a trio of soldiers I had once fought beside. Or rather, his eyes resembled those of one after the others had died.

* * *

_"Damnit Alfred, stop trying to be the bloody hero!" I smirked in weak amusement as the shortest of our squad caught up to the squad leader and me. Strands of messy, mud caked hair clung to his forehead as he continued to glare at Alfred._

_Arthur was a rare sight in American camps. England, in all its parental glory, had put its soldiers behind the Northerners in the beginning. They had fought brilliantly, our brothers and sisters from across the ocean, but they were still unprepared for the extreme measures a cornered American would resort to; not even 248 years could change that fact. Their military had been ordered to pull out, unable to keep up with the large numbers we were throwing into the war. England could not leave her people unprotected no matter how much she wished to help us._

_"Oh Artie," the blond visibly twitched at the nickname, "Good of you to catch up with us." Our squad leader grinned toothily at the Brit, resembling the perpetual seven year old that he was._

_"Come off it," a light voice spoke up, "It's not his fault you're more of a smartass than a bucket of Englishmen on a rainy day." Mathieu pressed himself to the cracked wall I would later die beside, rolling his dark brown eyes skyward. His sharp accent had not dampened even as the numbers of Canadian-French had dwindled to nearly zero. Quebec and Ontario, who had split off from Canada some time ago, sent a sizeable amount of supplies and a few soldiers to support our cause. The queen of their previous country had taken the second American Civil War as a chance to reclaim her territories. Last I heard, she had lost New Brunswick to the United Federation as they now called themselves._

_"I thought we had a mission to accomplish," I cut in, seeing the argument burning on the tip of Alfred's tongue. The trio turned their attention to me for a moment and then Alfred shot off a mock salute._

_"Yes Ma'am."_

_"Tosser."_

_"Thank you!"_

_"I don't think that was a compliment, Alfred," the Canadian commented as he lifted his riffle, taking point. Conversation died at the moment and we took up our positions with Arthur standing at the back. The night was surprisingly quiet even for a town that had long since claimed its neutrality. Haven had backed out of the war, telling both sides that it would allow any within its borders._

_Of course, this translated into the Southern soldiers and Northern soldiers taking the chance to kill each other whenever they could. This, as it turned out, was exactly why we were creeping through the back alleys at 0312 hours. Our line came to a halt when Mathieu held up one hand. I rolled my shoulders in an attempt to rid them of the stiffness nerves always placed in them._

_Mathieu looked past me to where I had no doubt Arthur was telling him that we were not being followed. The man gave the slightest of nods before motioning for us to continue on our way. My eyes instinctively moved to meet Alfred's and he crossed them, bringing up the urge to laugh from underneath the boulder I had buried it. I bumped the squad leader's shoulder as I crept by, catching up with Mathieu. This was a tactic that Arthur had come up with; we scrambled the order in which most would expect us to be in._

_Normally, our medic would be in the center, but Arthur was at the end where a marksman like me would be. Mathieu, our technician was in the front while our true leader was in the middle. Every so many feet we were to switch places in order to mess with any who were watching us. Who would have guessed that Brits were so smart?_

_There had not been a shout of 'get down' or curse words; one moment we were rounding a corner and the next Mathieu was throwing himself backwards. Gun shots tore into the dirt road at our feet, but I did not get the chance to complain as I fell. A trembling hand clung to the front of my coat, smearing the green camouflage with dark liquid and pulled me towards a face that would remain with me for the rest of my nights, "Ambush."_

_"Get up," insistent hands tugged at my arms to get my attention until they gave up and yanked me to my feet. Mathieu rolled off of my lap, his slack face turned towards us as the hands dragged me back behind the corner. I noticed that Alfred's expression had hardened into furry as we passed him._

_"They knew we were coming," Arthur ground out from between clenched teeth while dropping me. I managed to stagger for a second before I regained my footing, surprised to find my weapon still in my grasp._

_"How do we get out," I muttered softly, shooting off a handful of scattered rounds into the dark. Alfred was the one to answer me first._

_"I don't think we do."_

* * *

A faint frown creased my lips as my eyes slid open to the view of a slowly lightening sky. Gently I freed the ear plugs from my ears, sighing in restlessness. Last night had been yet another failure and, while the boys and I had made great progress towards instinctively knowing where each other were, we were still not good enough. Hamaki had shown a new side to his utter cruelty by transforming into the not blinded genin and tricking the others into attacking the real genin. No matter how I looked at any of it, I could not figure out where we were going wrong or how we could do better. I was beginning to think we couldn't.

The sounds of someone stirring captured my attention effortlessly. Titling my head back, I could see the vague shape of a boy trying to pull himself to his feet. His shoulders managed to clear the earth before he tumbled back. He stopped trying and for the moment I thought he had given up, but then one hand crawled along the grass towards me, "Help me up, Minori."

I resisted the need to cry out when I rolled onto my tender stomach, reaching for the boy's hand. The feeling of rough calluses told me for sure that it was Mitsuo and I merely smiled when his head turned towards me. His hitai-ate rested tightly against his eyes, the plate reflecting the barest hints of the sun peeking through the tree branches.

"How did you know where she was?" I blinked slowly, my head clearing at the soft question. Mitsuo, however, did not react to our teammate; it was almost as if he hadn't heard him. That was when it hit me. While I had my hearing taken away, Satoshi had his sight stolen. This meant that Mitsuo should not have been able to know where I was, despite his enhanced senses. Five days in the forest would have erased any unique scent any of us had.

Satoshi appeared at the other boy's side, this new mystery having reenergized him. Immediately, Mitsuo shifted so that he was staring up at our partner and he grinned. With swift hands, Satoshi removed the ear plugs and the hitai-ate, "How did you know where she was?!"

"Minori," he questioned. At the vigorous nod of Satoshi's head, he looked at me. Light eyebrows pulled against his eyes, "I don't know. It…she just has this cool aura about her. You do too, only it's softer. Why," Mitsuo glanced between us, "Haven't you noticed?"

"No," I spoke up, "I don't know what you mean." Mitsuo frowned at that and reached up to rub at his ear in confusion.

"Chakra, he senses chakra!" It did not instantly dawn on me why that was so important. Mitsuo could sense chakra, but couldn't every shinobi? I frowned as I thought about that. No, not every shinobi could sense others without extensive training. I knew I couldn't and by the look on Satoshi's face, I doubted he could either. Mitsuo sensed chakra as a freshly minted genin.

"No way," the words fell almost silently from my parted lips.

"Yes way," Satoshi came as close to sing-song as was possible without me wondering if he wasn't someone else in disguise, "He's a chakra sensor!"

"That means we have a way to beat Hamaki at his own game," I laughed, all thoughts of our unavoidable loss evaporating. For the first time in days the weight of disappointing Fumio or causing Hamaki to doubt training us had lifted and genuine joy had filled its place.

"You're right, but we best save this for the final battle. Let him keep thinking we can't do anything against him," Satoshi muttered as his usual reserved expression came back, one hand tapping his chin lightly.

"He's coming," Mitsuo interrupted our powwow doing his best not to look in any direction in particular. Satoshi and I had the time to exchange glances before Hamaki showed up.

"Ready to go again?"

* * *

_I bit my lips to keep any sound from escaping them as I followed my teammates up the ladder. The rusting item shook violently as an explosion lit up the night and I did not have to look to know that another team had been found out. In all, four teams had been dispatched with different targets, but I couldn't help wondering if we would be making it out alive. Ambushes were typically planned out, and nothing seemed very spontaneous in the enemy's movements._

_I glanced up in time to watch Alfred and Arthur clear the top of the double story building against the backdrop of the inky black sky. There was no moon to guide us on our way. I knew that we were moving more with instinct than actual knowledge of what the small town looked like. Out of everyone in our platoon, only the Squad Leader of Omega had lived in the cursed state that just might claim us all._

_Alfred held a finger up to his lips as I reached the top, motioning towards the rooftop door we had been praying for. My Squad Leader shifted his gloved hand onto the slim handle and it was all I could do not to chew on a finger nail or two. If it was locked we would try to force it, but the noise would no doubt alert our pursuers that we were still very much alive._

_My eyes trailed to where Arthur leaned a bit too heavily against the brick wall beside the door. The hastily applied bandages around his thigh had begun to darken in an alarmingly large blotch. If any man ever lived up to the saying, 'more stubborn than a mule' it was Arthur. Stubbornness, however, would not stop his wound from bleeding._

_The door slipped open silently, and I knew that if we had been in any other situation Alfred would have thrown his fist up in victory. As it was, he settled for smirking as he led the way towards safety._

* * *

I dropped to the earth as Hamaki's leg came at me, aiming to strike me at chest height. The jonin easily adjusted to my new position and slammed his foot down mid-spin. I rolled to the side, swinging my leg up from my new place under him. His hand wrapped firmly around my ankle to stop my progress only a few inches from a fairly sensitive place; his eyes were tight as he glared at me. Thus far in our spars I had neglected to even so much as hint to fighting dirty. I couldn't resist the urge to throw him a cocky grin.

Hamaki twisted his upper body suddenly in reaction to the threat that was there. Satoshi's kick was caught much like mine had, but he had one advantage I hadn't: he was in the air. With movement more graceful than one would expect from a preteen boy, my grey haired teammate bent backwards to throw a punch at our jonin's face. Hamaki released me in order to block this newest attack and I took full advantage. Reaching out with as much haste as I could accomplish, I grabbed the spot just above the man's knee and dug my fingers into the nerves there.

A curse slipped from his chapped lips as his leg collapsed under his weight, forcing him to one knee. Hamaki maneuvered himself so that he managed to pin both my arms to my chest as he fell. It was then that Mitsuo made his appearance. Hamaki hardly glanced in the boy's direction. He dropped Satoshi's hand to grasp the back of his shirt and tossed the boy at our deaf and blind partner as if he were a hay barrel. I pushed the broken half of a senbon that had been resting behind my lips into position and spat it at my jonin with as much force as I could.

Hamaki's eyes found mine in surprise while his hand deflected the metal needle with a kunai, but my purpose hadn't been to actually harm him. In the second after Mitsuo completed his slide underneath the flying Satoshi, the man realized this. Nearly black hair caught on his hitai-ate and the man turned just in time to feel the tip of Mitsuo's kunai against his jugular.

"Did it work," Satoshi's voice broke the stillness as he climbed to his feet, one arm wrapped around his no doubt bruised ribs. Dark eyes danced between the three of us were we remained before a small smile broke out across his pale face, "We did it!"

Hamaki dropped his head with a slight smirk in place as Mitsuo removed his weapon to throw his arm up in victory. Our jonin reached out to capture both my wrists in a single hand and pulled me to my feet, "Congratulations kids; you passed." His smirk grew as he met the boys' happy faces, "Though, I'd like to know how you managed to pull that off."

"Easy," Mitsuo spoke up, "I'm a chakra sensor!"

"And how long have you known?"

"A couple of days at the most," I answered the man's raised eyebrow and crossed my arms. The jonin hummed lightly in thought, erasing the bright mood we had all been in. A single glance at Mitsuo's fallen face told me that he hadn't expected that to the man's reaction either. If anything, we had expected the man to be surprised or even proud that we had come up with a plan that easily defeated him. Sure, we used the fact that he underestimated us to our advantage, but that shouldn't have lessened our victory.

"Come along then," I looked up to see our jonin had already started the walk home, "We'll go back and I expect to see you all at the gates tomorrow at dawn."

* * *

_Alfred grunted under the weight of the body as he dragged Mathieu over yet another short, broken wall. His blue eyes were half shut in exhaustion, but there was no helping him. A quiet curse bled between our last squad member's split lips as he placed more of his weight on me. We had escaped Haven, but we had not done it without much of our own blood spilt. Mathieu was dead, far beyond the help our medic or any doctor could offer._

_Conversation remained nonexistent as our boots sloshed through the cold muck melting snow had turned the ground into. I had lost the feeling in my fingers several hours ago, but I still dug them deeper into the soiled material of Arthur's jacket at his waist. The blond spat another British term I did not take the time to decode because I was too busy trying not to further harm his injured leg._

_The night was full of the sounds of struggling soldiers as we carried our dead and weak with us, determined not to leave either at the mercy of the Southerners. We had met up not far outside of the town, but no one had done anything more than exchange a nod or two. Haven had not been the first battle I had lost, but it had been the first I had lost someone to._

_Soon, the endless darkness melted away to reveal the lights of our temporarily permanent camp. Behind the metal fence and armed mines was a place that would give us true peace for a while. Alfred halted suddenly and I instinctively followed his lead to the sounds of gun safeties being shut off._

_ A hard baritone cut through the air, "Names and business!_"

"Hamaki Mimura with Team 4, reporting in," the image of my squad leader's grief heavy shoulders melted into that of our jonin. We had made it to the village gates and the guard was busy looking through our paperwork to make sure we were truly who we claimed we were. From what I had heard it was a relatively new thing in Konohagakure that came to be during the last war.

"Everything checks out," the guard sat back in his seat and waved one pudgy hand at us, "You may go."

Hamaki dipped his head once, though whether it was in mock appreciation or not, I would never know. All I did know was that the guard wore a mildly pleased expression as we passed him by.

* * *

My legs swung in the open air while I shifted in my seat, my hands holding onto the edge of the windowsill. The thinnest of smiles formed as I thought about the heart attack my past mother would have had if she saw me. A sigh was pushed from my lungs as I opened my eyes to stare at the glowing stars high above my head.

The sky was so similar to the one I had known. Even the Northern Star was as bright as it was supposed to be. I closed my eyes tightly, insistent on not dwelling in the past. I was in the Narutoverse and my cursed, precious America no longer existed. There was no changing that fact and, even if I could, I wasn't sure I would. I had adored my America until I finally saw her for what she truly was: a place where people were free to sue over burning themselves with hot coffee and others dished out hatred like it was candy.

Konoha was like that too.

My fingertips were like those of the dead as they covered my face, my palms lending what heat they had to my frozen nose. Blunt teeth caught my lower lip as it trembled. My hands curled into fists and my chest stopped while I held my breath.

Similarities; away from the propaganda that Kishi-what's-his-name spewed, I was capable of figuring out what Konoha was and what it was most diffidently not. The village was not the home of countless innocent civilians and a few hundred peace loving shinobi. Within its sturdy walls was a slowly boiling cesspool that hid under the pretense of the land of hope.

People of Konoha discriminated against one another over small things like family names or which parts of the village they lived in. Shinobi often overlooked it when a civilian was being harassed by another ninja or were being mugged by poorer civilians. You would never have known it, but Konoha had a rather large drug problem. It lurked underneath the skin of the village, always ready for the chance to burst forth and claim Konoha for its own.

I would have loved to say that most of the bad things in Konoha were done behind the Hokage's back but I knew that was wishful thinking. For all the brains he was supposed to have, there was no way that the man could be so utterly oblivious to what was going on. Yet, that meant that he was also aware of what the citizens of his village were doing to Naruto.

My shoulders slumped with another heavy sigh and I turned my mind to less depressing topics

The chilly air of the night cut at my lungs as I breathed, forcing me to tug at the edges of the blanket in order to protect my exposed throat and bare shoulders. My jacket hung on the clothes line Saki had hung up in the basement, drying after the harsh washing the older girl had put it through.

My fingers closed around the aged scroll resting in my lap; it was the same one Hamaki had first given to each of us. That day he had lectured us on the importance of taking our occupation seriously since nearly all shinobi died in the field. The jonin had driven home the point that he wanted professionals at his sides because he would be placing his own life in our hands. Children could break, runaway but ninja did not have that option.

The lip of the scroll lifted slightly at my prodding hands as I turned the idea in my head. He had been giving us chances to give up and that had been another one. Had he wish he had been given the choice when he was young? Was that why he had made sure that we knew we could still quit without anyone looking at us twice?

At one point in my old life I had begged for a chance at doing it all over. I had wanted nothing more than to abandon my country to hide in the safety of another. The first time I was a child, it was my dream to die in the line of duty like the hero I was certain I could be. There were days when I would imagine the day away with thoughts of how I could accomplish my ambition. I had not realized that the loss of one girl would change that all so drastically.

"Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction," I muttered in English, completely uncaring if anyone overheard me. Without my ninja stuff, I looked just like any other child and ordinary children did odder things than speak in a 'made-up' language.

"What did you say, Tomato?"

I jumped at the words, nearly accomplishing the task of throwing myself out my window. It was with dawning realization that I came to the conclusion that Naruto was much better at tracking people down than anyone would have given him credit for. Then again, perhaps he was just lucky?

"Tomato," he tried again, shifting from one foot to another on the wooden fence that enclosed Fumio's backyard. His blue eyes dashed about the neighborhood, seeking anything that might have been lingering in the dark before scrambling up to where I was. He was careful in his approach but if that was from the monsters hanging about his head or me, I could not say.

"Whatcha doin out so late, Fishcake?" I tilted my head to the side as he faltered; one hand on the windowsill to pull him up. Conscious of my every movement, I slid to the left so that there was enough room for the boy to sit down. He lost some of the tension in his arms as he took my offered seat.

"Nothing, what are you doing," he shot back.

I bit back a smile at the obvious deflection of my question while shaking my head a bit. Honestly, it couldn't hurt to tell Naruto the truth since he wouldn't understand or believe what I said. Looking at the blond watching me, I knew I would rather not plant the first seed of doubt in his subconscious about just how much he could trust me. That would be…problematic.

"Ah, thinking about what my first official mission might be tomorrow," I said.

"You passed?!" I nodded at his question, unable to decipher if that was jealousy or pride in his voice.

"It wasn't easy since we had to fight our jonin for three hours before he decided we were good enough to become his genin." Ah yes, Naruto's gob smacked expression was quite worth all I had gone through the past week and a day; quite worth it indeed.

"You must be really strong," I did not get the chance to interject as he plowed on, "Train me!"

"Ah, no."

Not even crickets dared to chirp during the ensuing silence and I turned my head away, carding my fingers through my short hair awkwardly. The edges were still somewhat jagged, but I didn't mind that. Short hair had always been comforting to me and, though I knew the reason was buried in my past life, I never could remember why.

"Why not?" I peeked at the boy's pouting face from the corner of my eye, careful not to fall for the 'eyes.' Naruto was not looking at me as I expected him to, but instead was watching his nails pick at the chipped paint of my windowsill. Why shouldn't I help out my fellow orphan? It wasn't like I would not be changing the future with my kunochi career.

"Well," his head shot up at the sound of my resistance cracking, a hopeful shine in his eyes. I flinched, ducking my chin into my chest as a different yet familiar face appeared in my mind. Neji, Gaara, Koyuki, Sai, Nagato: I couldn't take away the never-give-in attitude that saved them. "Genin."

"Huh?"

"When you become a genin I'll help train you."

* * *

Four yellow walls boxed me in quite efficiently. A stretch of the wooden floor was showing the effects of the pacing I had spent nights occupied with. My mind was plowing through topics faster than I could recognize them, over doing it as was its habit. Outside the sky was changing into a canvas of deep blues and purples that gave way to a smallest hint of pink on the horizon. Birds were chirping to each other while busying themselves with catching breakfast.

"That's it," I grumbled. I gathered my ninja gear from where it sat patiently on Jun's bed. My body handled its weight with ease that came from my training and I lifted the window, opening it wide enough to swing one leg out. It was with a careless shift in my position that sent my falling from my perch, three stories up. I might have freaked out if I was a civilian, but I merely kicked away from the building on the other side of the alley before repeating the action of the side of Fumio's home to land lightly in the alley.

"Double jump bonus," I said with a dramatized flick of my head. What could I say? The Elemental Countries needed more ninja like me.

I gave chase to the morning, dodging around the very few people out so early. I knew the coming months would not be easy. My first official mission was today, my first mission outside the village sat somewhere on the horizon, and my first kill was not far beyond that.

After that, I would help Naruto save this world. I would redeem myself.

* * *

**Arthur's Note: Yep. I so went there with her past team. I am sorry this took so long, but I'm quite happy with it. Oh, and there probably won't be much focus on her past after this and I might even do a time skip. I'm not the kind to sit and write a handful of senseless D-rank missions. **

**Remember to stop and tell me what you liked or disliked about this chapter~!**


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